” Brendon was not inclined to be led away from the point. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ agreed Gerald with a grin. The intoxicating sense of novelty had given place to a more business-like mood. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. . “Martin Chen!” Michelle shouted his name in an outburst, like an invocation. Perhaps if I had watched over her more closely, things would have been different. ‘You will keep yourself utterly quiet,’ he instructed, a growl in her ear as they headed for the door. The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest.
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